


Syzygy

by Pdxtrent



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Banshee Lydia Martin, Everyone Is Alive, Fae Magic, Fix-It, Friendship is Magic, Gen, Happy Halloween, I mean EVERYONE - Freeform, M/M, Post-Season/Series 06, Series Compliant, Spark Stiles Stilinski, you get a fix it everyone gets a fix it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:42:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26872366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pdxtrent/pseuds/Pdxtrent
Summary: Stiles and Lydia have a plan.It’s a very very good plan.Some results are worth the price paid.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 37
Kudos: 189





	Syzygy

The waxing moon above him was rushing towards full, just one hour to go. Around him the magic of the nemeton was like an ocean. The rush of the telluric currents and the keening power of the ley lines a bewildering cascade to those sensitive to the sound. A full year of spell work, nearly a thousand hours had gone into this. A masterpiece of theory and power strong enough to slip past time and fate.

Ten thousand candles, black, white, and every color across the spectrum cast light across a bewildering array of circles and spell works that glowed in the moonlight.

She stepped into the circle, long ago accepting that practical footwear was her sacrifice for doing magic in the woods. 

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“Are you?” 

“Yes.” She looked at him. “Like we practiced?” 

He nodded. It had taken years of research to figure out how to even do this, and then still more years to plan it out. 

And then-

A full year to cast. 

A full year in Beacon Hills. 

A full year under each full moon.

A full year under each new moon.

That it was Halloween was not by chance. It had a certain power, a special virtue for what they had planned. The night of all souls. 

Outside the circle, he heard his timer go off. It was time.

A flick of the knife and he started to bleed as he chanted. Not too much, a steady drip into land primed by a year's worth of his blood and hers, and the land responded, echoing back his desire. But it wasn’t enough. 

Not nearly enough.

As his litany wound down, across from him she mirrored his actions. When her blood hit the ground they could both feel the edges of the world shudder. 

He watched as she spoke, the light of the moon stripping away the appearance of her humanity to reveal the fae magic within. He could guess that by now every supernatural in a hundred miles could sense their working, and the pack would be on the way. But they’d prepared for that, and soon it wouldn’t matter.

She came to the end of her first litany, and he picked up with his second part effortlessly. The words burning in his mind as reality peeled away around him. 

To undo the past.

To raise the dead.

To right a wrong. 

To rule time. 

There was a terrible cost to these things. A price that could only be paid once. But there was nothing that said the price could not cover multiple debts. That transaction could not be piled onto transaction. Measured and balanced and counter-weighted by a certain brilliant and dedicated mind. It was no surprise to him that had taken her genius to realize how to make it work.

He'd always known she was brilliant. 

That their powers; one of life and one of death, one purely human and the other one full of the strength of the fae, created a balance of their own. That together they could accomplish everything they wanted.

Spark and banshee.

So together planned. 

They had learned long ago there was little that they couldn’t accomplish when they worked that way.

In the distance a familiar wolf howled as he finished his second litany and she started hers. Above him he knew a second moon had appeared in the sky, the light in the clearing doubling with its presence, like a mirror of the first. He could feel time slowing, thickening. Seconds stretching longer and longer. Then the light doubled again. 

And again.

And again.

And again.

And a

g

a

i

n

He came back in and joined her for the last litany. Space itself unwound as the spell closed in on the moment of syzygy, and as it closed in, he gave thanks to the horror of the Dread Doctors who had given them the key to everything.

Around him, the light doubled again and again until he closed his eyes against it. Again and again until it was blinding even with closed eyes and the power was brought to a fulcrum in that one moment. As under the light of a thousand moons, time itself unwound around them.

He readied his knife as they reached the moment, and he sliced his other forearm, knowing across the circle she had done the same thing at the same time.

The light melted into dark. 

Somewhere a wolf howled. 

Then another.

Then another.

Then a dozen more.

A banshee screamed so close it felt like his ears shattered. 

And maybe they did. 

Before they were remade to shatter again. 

Time tangled backwards.

Effect preceded cause. 

Space warped and twisted and heaved.

Into the moment when all things were possible.

And then-

-that moment passed.

The power fled. 

Magic receded and vanished.

His awareness of magic vanishing with it.

A sacrifice had been necessary after all.

And he opened his eyes. Across from him, her arms whole, knife in hand, she opened hers as well. He glanced down at his own arms, which were also whole, as if nothing had happened. Around them the candles were gutted and the spell circles fallen to powder.

He looked at the nemeton, no longer a stump but a vast trunk and tree canopy that was blocking out the light of a single moon. The center of a network he could no longer sense at all. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I think so,” she said, moving next to him, "The voices are gone though, all the dead. All of them." She said it like it was a gift, and perhaps it was. Her power had been a burden as much as a gift.

Not far away the first full-shift Wolf crested the rise. Then a second. Then a third. 

Even in the moonlight from that far away he could pick out the familiar shape of Derek's wolf. The wolf next to him though, had glowing red eyes.

“Alpha Hale,” he greeted, then glanced back to the other and said tenderly, “Derek.” He glanced at the third. “Laura?” he said, unsure. He'd never met her before after all.

Talia Hale shifted with a grace he found utterly unsurprising from everything he’d heard. He knew through old gossip from Peter that she’d spent endless hours practicing it. 

“What have you done Stiles?” she asked, and her voice wasn’t hostile, but wasn’t friendly either. 

“Everything,” he breathed, and turned back to Lydia and pulled her into a hug. Celebrating their shared loss of power with hope in future they’d rewritten.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not sure where this came from. I rarely write one shots. I’m not someone who thinks in terms of style. 
> 
> Honestly I think it might simply be the world is a dumpster fire and a magical fix it seemed like a lovely idea. 
> 
> It’s outside of my normal wheelhouse, so tell me what you think in the comments! Thank you!


End file.
